Every Other Weekend
by M. Jamil
Summary: After viewing Reba McEntire's music video, "Every Other Weekend," starring Steve Howey as Van, and Joanna Garcia as Cheyenne Montgomery, I came to the conclusion that the couple must have gotten divorced shortly after season six...
1. Chapter 1

"Thanks again for letting us stay, Mom," Cheyenne said, giving her mother a comforting hug while a bright smile danced across her face.

"Anytime, darlin'," the redhead replied, misty-eyed.

A few short moments later, Van Montgomery had replaced his wife in his mother-in-law's arms. "We really do owe you big time, Mrs. H," he said.

"It's no trouble at all, Van. Really," she smiled, giving the young man a pat on the back. "Now you two better be on your way; Elizabeth should be back from daycare in an hour, and you still have unpacking to do."

"Okay," Cheyenne pranced over to where her husband was now standing near the entryway, a suitcase resting on either side of him.

"Honey, can you go open the trunk of my car?" Van asked, handing over his keys to the pregnant blonde standing beside him.

"Oh, don't you want me to help you with those?" She asked, reaching for her luggage.

"Cheyenne," he said putting a hand on hers. "Don't."

"Why not?"

"You've got to think about the baby, sweetie. I don't want you to end up having a miscarriage. You really shouldn't be lifting heavy items."

Cheyenne sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right… But I just feel like you've been doing so much work and I want to try to be a better wife to you than when I was pregnant with Elizabeth."

Van smiled. "Hey, don't worry about it," he said, kissing her temple. "You'll be helping me if you go and open that trunk so I can set these down sooner. Besides, I'm a man," he smirked.

"Wait, a man? What's that supposed to mean? You don't think I'm as strong as you?"

"No, that's not what I meant—"

"Then what did you mean?"

"Okay," Reba said, cutting in. "Listen. Cheyenne, why don't you go outside to the car, as per Van's request, and Van, why don't you keep your mouth shut?"

The two did as were told by their mother figure, for the time being.


	2. Chapter 2

There was peace and quiet. No one was home.

Suddenly, interrupting the stillness entered a frazzled blonde, crying baby, and a very confused Van Montgomery.

"What'd I do this time, Cheyenne?" He asked, turning his palms over in the air and shrugging.

"Van, you know what? I think Mom's right; you should just keep your mouth shut," Cheyenne said in a huff before retreating to the couch.

"This is exactly how your parents got divorced," Van said in frustration. "They wouldn't talk about the little issues. I don't want us to end up like them," he took the few steps over to the sofa and sat beside his wife as she rocked young Elizabeth to sleep. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

Cheyenne sighed. "It was your conversation with Steve, back in the car."

"What about it?"

"Well, first of all," Cheyenne said, turning so she could get a better view of her husband's face. "You know it's dangerous to talk on the phone while driving, especially with a child in the backseat."

"We were at a red light. You know I would never do anything like that had the car been moving."

"And second, you agreed to hang out with your little friend tonight. You know we had a family dinner planned."

Realization plastered Van's face. "Was that tonight?"

"Yes," Cheyenne said, not being able to believe her husband could forget such an important date. "It's been on the calendar for weeks, Van! How could you possibly forget?"

"Well, Cheyenne, I don't believe the calendar was in front of me when I was driving; that would just be dangerous," he smirked, not understanding what he had just said until he saw the look on his spouse's face.

"Oh!" She said, getting up.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, I swear!" Van followed suit.

"Save it, Van. You go on and have fun tonight. I'll just call Mom and see if she'll come over for the night. I don't want to be here all alone."

"Come on, Cheyenne," Van pleaded.

"No, I'm letting you go. It's not like I haven't changed the date on that calendar three times already just to accommodate your plans. You should have a good time and not worry about your family. Have a few beers with the guys, okay? Tell 'em I said hi."

"Cheyenne,"

"I said go, already!" The argument had finally managed to wake up the youngster sleeping in her mother's arms. "Now look what you did!"

Van grabbed his coat off the rack, watching his wife disappear to the upper level of their Houston estate. He could hear her trying to soothe their daughter's cries before he left.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey Reba," Brock said, entering the house two doors down from his own.

"Hello Brock," She replied, setting down the newspaper on the coffee table in front of her. "To what do I owe this intrusion?"

Brock sighed. "Can't I just come over here and hang out like we used to?"

"Oh, you mean like when we were married?" Reba chuckled. "Sorry Brock."

Despite her words, Brock decided to take a seat on the armchair.

"So how are things going with you and Barbara Jean?"

"They're going."

Reba nodded.

"How are things with Van and Cheyenne? Have you heard from them since they left last week?"

"Yeah, actually, Cheyenne called me later that evening and asked me to stay the night."

"Oh?"

"I'm worried about them, Brock." Concern etched across the redhead's face.

"Why? What's wrong?" He asked.

Reba played out the argument between her daughter and son-in-law just as Cheyenne had described at their little sleepover event when Van was out with friends.

"Well, that certainly doesn't sound like something he would do. He's usually very sensitive. Granted, he might mess things up a lot, but he has a good heart."

"He does. She also did admit that she may have been the cause of his leaving."

Brock nodded in acknowledgement.

"What with her pregnancy, her emotions have been running high, and that was just the last straw. I know they've been under a lot of stress, what with the fire and all, but they've made it through worse times," Reba said, a hint of desperation leaking through her voice.

Brock patted her knee. "I'm sure they'll get through this rationally. I mean, they've gone through their senior year of high school with Elizabeth in Cheyenne's stomach, I'm sure they can handle this like the mature adults they've grown into."

"I know, but I just have this feeling…"

"Oh, no," Brock said, leaning back.

"What?"

"Mother's intuition."

Reba rolled her eyes. "Not that, you moron."

"Well, what is it, then?"

"I just think we didn't set up the best example for those two…" She trailed off as she said this, not being able to make eye contact with the man sitting perpendicular to her.

"Reba," Brock said. "Look at me." Once she met his gaze, he carried on. "We shared twenty wonderful years together. That was a long lasting marriage, and even though we're not going to get the chance to grow old together, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

She wasn't about to let that get through her barrier. "I know, but I just can't get what Cheyenne said to me about four years ago out of my head."

"What did she say to you?"

"That she didn't want to drive Van away like I drove you."

"Reba, where's all this coming from?"

She shrugged. "Brock, you ought to know this; when you're a parent, you worry that every mistake you make, your kids will never forgive."

"Of course I know that, Reba. But our kids have turned out pretty great, and I think they can learn from our divorce. They won't end up making the same mistakes we did. It all depends on how you look at it."

Just then the front door burst open. "Mom!" Cheyenne shrieked.

Reba sighed. "What is it that you need, Cheyenne?"

"Van called me fat!"

Reba rolled her eyes.

"I did not! I was just saying that when we reschedule our family dinner, we should not have gravy! I was thinking of the baby, Cheyenne."

"And what makes you think I'm going to reschedule that dinner, Van? Do you think you can just do anything you want and I'll be okay with accommodating it?"

"No, I—"

"Well good, because I'm not!" The red-faced blonde stomped her way around the couch to sit next to her mother.

"Why are you being such a baby, Cheyenne? It's hard to believe you have one of your own."

Reba and Brock looked at one another and stood up.

"Alright; Van, Cheyenne, this has gone on long enough. I want you two to apologize to each and other and talk out your issues."

"Mom, this is none of your business."

"Cheyenne, you're my daughter, and it will always be my business."

At this she huffed. "Oh, what do you know about solving marital problems anyway?"

Immediately, Brock saw this as his cue to defend his ex-wife. He knew this was still a sore spot for her. "Cheyenne, you do not talk to your mother like that. What happened between the two of us is none of your concern. You understand that?"

She nodded. "Yes, Daddy."

"Good."

Reba shot Brock an appreciative look. "Now, why is it that you two are still arguing about last week? It's the past. Forgive and forget. Or at least do something civil about it."

"You know, I don't even know what we started out talking about, but I know for certain it wasn't the dinner."

No one had noticed Van's disappearance until he peeped his head through the dividing window from the kitchen. "Hey, Mrs. H, do you have any bourbon left?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Mom, I'm worried about him," Cheyenne said into the receiver. "Ever since he's started hanging out with Dad, he's been spending less time around the house. His life circles around playing golf now."

"Wait. He's hanging out with Brock?"

Cheyenne nodded, even though she knew her mother couldn't see. "Yeah."

"Playing golf," This time it was more of a statement than a question. "Are you sure?"

"Mom, I'm positive. Dad's been picking him up and dropping him off every time they play."

Reba nodded slowly, processing what was going on. "Well, Cheyenne, honey, I think I'm going to go talk to your dad about this—"

"But I don't want him to feel like he's doing something wrong."

"Cheyenne," Reba said sternly. "He _is_ doing something wrong. He's _always_ doing something wrong!"

Cheyenne rolled her eyes at this and sighed. "Whatever gets you through the day, Mom."

"Sweetie, I'm only doing this for your benefit."

"Okay, if you really think it'll make things better."

"I know it will."

"Thanks Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart. Now you take it easy, alright? I don't want you worrying, especially with my second grandchild you're carrying."

Cheyenne smiled. "Don't worry; I'll take good care of this little one… And the one crying upstairs. Sorry Mom, I gotta go."

"That's alright; you go tend to Elizabeth. I'll talk to you later."

"See you."

"Bye bye," Reba hung up the phone, grabbing her purse off the hook on her way out the backdoor.

As she made her way down the street, she could feel her fury rising. He had ruined his own marriage, but to interfere with their daughter's?

"What's wrong with you?" The redhead asked, interrupting the serene environment of her ex-husband's living room as she slapped him upside the head.

"Jeez," Brock said, rubbing the sore spot. "What'd I do now?"

"Oh, you know perfectly well what you did," Reba said, putting her hands on her hips and huffing. "You knew Van and Cheyenne were having problems, but instead of letting them talk through everything, you drag Van to the golf course."

"Hey, it was a fair thing," the dentist said, raising his hands in the air. "He said he needed to get his mind off things for a while, so I offered to take him with me. After that one time, he started wanting to come on his own."

"Of course he'd want to come on his own!" Reba said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "After all, you did! You knew how addicting it was! Why'd you have to introduce him to the sport in the first place, Brock?"

Brock shrugged. "Why do you care about this all so suddenly?"

"Because I just found out that you were involved with all this. And whenever you're involved with anything, it's never good."

"Oh, right. And that's how you felt when we were going through our marriage, right?"

Reba smirked. "Well, you have to admit, nothing good did come out of you leaving me for BJ."

"Oh, it's always about BJ, isn't it?" Brock mocked.

Reba rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I did not come over here to argue about us or Barbara Jean. I came over here to argue about Van and Cheyenne."

"Listen, if he wants to go to the golf course, he can go. I don't see anything wrong with it."

"Of course _you_ wouldn't see anything wrong with it."

Brock gave her a look. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It _means_," Reba said, "Cheyenne called me and said that she would like to spend a little more time with her husband than you do."

"You want me to stop taking him, I'll stop taking him. But the aftermath of this solution isn't going to be any prettier, Reba."

"And what the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you'll see."


End file.
